Wednesday, 14 August 2013

A Hozac Triptych Of Seven Inches

I’m kinda
getting 7” (and revisionist garage rock) happy this week, and here are three
more, all from the Hozac world, that have been taking turns at spiriting me
away from the real world, into one filled with attitude, mayhem and hedonistic fun.

Winter Bear
is the new venture from ex-Cave Weddings songstress Erin Dorbin, and the two
tracks here are imbued with enough summertime revelry and devil-may-care energy
to fuel many a beachside moon party. ‘Jump In The Fire’ has the requisite
punchy vocals and doo-wop backing vocals, but it’s Dorbin’s steely guitar riffs
that infuse this with enough growl and bluster to supersede the cutesy exterior
and be a true acolyte of 50s leather rock n roll. ‘Should I Leave’ flows on,
more of the same, and it spins around and around, a youthful elixir that pushes
aside the clouds and back the clock. Vintage pop tunes, shrink-wrapped and left
in an attic, left until now, a true relic of then and now, if slightly warped
from the sun and Dorbin’s overflowing charms.

But you can
only by walking on sunshine for a certain amount of time before getting burnt
and hurtling back to earth, and Cop City/Chill Pillars’ Gift Shop/Brand New Neighbor Blues has the requisite cement in the scorched
punk rhythms to make that trip all the quicker. There is a primitive baseness
to these two tracks (and indeed on the band’s debut eponymous LP) that disarms. The
DEVO card is whipped out regularly when these guys find their feet, and it’s
pretty warranted – the spaced out, deliciously warped compositions shouldn’t
make sense – at all – yet inexorably draw you in. Before long you are splattered
on terra firma, every bone, muscle and organ turned to jelly, yet you continue
to hum these tunes through cracked teeth as you breathe your last.

Finally we
are slammed with some squalling psych detritus from Chicago’s Verma. I know
Hozac isn’t just a dirty, scuzzy garage den – they harbour the likes of The Band In Heaven and Human Eye in their midst - but it always blindsides me when something outside the mold crawls
out of the darkness and into your ear. The assault is duly justified though –
the uneasy motorik energy informing the swirling ‘Ragnaraak’ evokes the most
ethereal yet dark machinations of the likeminded Cave, blistering the walls and
scorching the floors with their fiery outro; whilst ‘Chrome’ ploughs through
serrated tempests of noise to settle into a insidious groove that is pregnant
with ill-tempered intent. The kaleidoscopic undulations are insistent,
incessant, invasive and invigorating – you won’t be yourself when the needle
stops, nor will you want to be.

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About

It was early on a Sunday morning at ATP - A Nightmare Before Christmas 2009. After downing a fair few, at 4am we decided to cook a curry. It was during the consumption of this drunkenly delicious breakfast treat that we decided to actually do something about the music we talk about all the time.

So we started a blog – and Sonic Masala was born. Now into its fourth year, the blog has spread out to call both Australia and the UK its home (and the rest of the world), and has expanded to include gigs, festivals and a record label under its black umbrella. Come on, eat the noize.

If an mp3 is up here, it's because we have been talking about it, and think the whole world needs to know more. It's there to give you a little taste. Then, if you like, check out the band live and spend all your hard earned cash on their records. If we've posted up an mp3 of your stuff and you're not too keen on the idea, let us know and we'll happily take it down pronto.

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